


First Dance

by Jezabel



Series: Gotham: Rise of the Monsters [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Beheading, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Smut, M/M, No Underage Sex, Probably ooc, rated for violence and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7874881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jezabel/pseuds/Jezabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been some time since The Arkham's events, Jim is gone, the city is silent. Much like the calm before the storm. Bruce is trying to investigate more about his own company, a strange memory coming back to haunt him. Meanwhile, Fish Mooney hasn't yet did her first move, leaving Oswald struggling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm back and alive!  
> First of all, I would like to thank my boo cobblestyles (here on ao3) who bêta-read this!  
> She is also writing a nygmobblepot fanfic, you should check it out!
> 
> I would like to point out that we're both not native English speakers, so I apologize for the bad English you might come across!
> 
> I will also precise that in this fic, Bruce is now 16 and Jerome is somewhere near 18-19.  
> There will be no sex scenes between the both of them.  
> Now... Nygma and Oz.... *coughs*
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!!

# First Dance

### Chapitre 1 - 

Time has passed.

Bruce hasn’t even realised how fast his life was moving before standing in front of his mirror this morning. Staring into his own black eyes, he was remembering the Hell that day was in Arkham, how lucky he was to get away without anyone he cared injured. How long has it been since he saw Jim Gordon? He could've sent him something but he was so afraid. Scared of getting him back to this life of hunting, while the man was enjoying rest with his lover, Lee.

Well... Knowing the man, he wasn't probably resting, he might even have found something to investigate, away from Gotham.

But he couldn't bring him back, he had to keep his search secret. It looked like he was tracking one of the most dangerous people in the city. And this was definitely a high praise, seeing how the city was filled with corrupted and evil. At least, Harvey was doing a great job at his new job. The bus from Arkham might have been lost, seeing as none of the creatures trapped inside had shown up yet. Even the Great Fish Mooney was staying low for now, which was both reassuring and terrifying. Bruce wondered how many other of the prisoners escaped, if he will ever meet them. Judging by his luck, it was a very high probability.

He heard Alfred calling for him from downstairs and hurried down. He was wearing his usual outfit of a shirt and a sweater, walking down the stairs to meet with his caretaker. They just finished training and the boy could still feel a sting on his side. Alfred guided him to his breakfast, reprimanding him on his behaviour during the training, but still, he was getting stronger. He needed to get stronger, to be able to face the dangers to come; both physically and mentally. He was meeting more and more important people from all over the place, trying to build a reputation, to get his company back. He knew if he was to meet this secret council, he would have to be ready no matter what. Sometimes, he would catch his reflection in a mirror, noticing the scar on his neck.

It still made him nervous to see it. That day was probably one of the most terrifying, even scarier than when Nygma pretended to kill him. There was a clear difference between a calculated plan and a wild card. Jerome was unpredictable, and clearly knowing it, which was something really disturbing to the young man, who spent his entire life being told what to do, how to stand, how to speak, and yet, he was unpredictable in his own ways. The scariest part was the thought of losing Alfred that day, losing his now only family. Even though he knew it wasn't his time to meet Death, he felt like his captor was going to have a big play in his game to avoid it. But he was proven wrong when Galavan killed him right on the stage. And even after all of this, Bruce felt as if it wasn't right.

And it really wasn't, since the man who saved him that day had no other purpose but to kill him too. He shouldn't think about this too much, Alfred could tell when his thoughts were back to those dark times.

Instead, he just read the morning newspapers, hoping the city hasn't exploded yet. He enjoyed Alfred's handmade breakfast and they started chatting about today's schedule. There was a new charity ball coming up and Bruce really needed to try and convince him that going was not needed.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fish has been really calm since their last encounter. Maybe a bit too calm for it not to be concerning. Oswald was lying on his main chair in the manor's living room, staring at the fireplace steadily, his fingers playing with a glass of his favorite drink. It was the middle of the afternoon, so obviously, everyone was asleep except for him. Fish had the habit to act mostly at night, so he'd rather have everyone ready for that. But still, after so long, she was silent. Part of him was wishing he dreamt it, when she knocked him out. He really wish it was... Having Butch seeing her too and confirming it didn't let him have that luxury though. He wouldn't even question how it was possible, as everyone knows by now that Arkham was just a huge Frankenstein's Laboratory, but most of the people that came out of it were described as terrifying monsters. She was already one before escaping. She was a fierce opponent, and even if he had the strength to fight her then, he had now to face something different entirely and his will was running thin.

He had a nice team with him now.

"Nice" wasn't probably the right word but it felt as much. Butch was back at his side, they both had the same enemy anyway.. At least for now. With Tabitha back here with them, he was wondering how the man was dealing with all of this. By logic, Oswald just deduced the man refused the return of his old boss; convincing himself it was some kind of trick or monster. He wasn't that foolish, he knew refusing the return of the woman will only bring him troubles later, and even if Butch didn't believe any of this, he was still following his orders, and that's all that mattered. But he was still considering him as someone who could turn against him at any moment now… After all, he already did it once. The only reason he accepted to have Tabitha around, despite the murder of his mother, was that he could see how manipulated she’s been by her brother, a puppet in his hand, and it was difficult to not admire how she stood up against him, handing him to his doom. In a way, she did help. He still wouldn't give her any chance of emotions coming from him, even if she was trying to be forgiven, but not trying too hard. They both knew where they stood.

Barbara was.... Barbara. It was a good thing to have her around, not for the same purpose as Galavan who used her shamelessly against Jim Gordon, ruining a perfect occasion to have something against him by making him angrier at her. Most of the team saw her as a crazy woman, and she clearly was, but Oswald liked that no one could see if it was an act or not. After all, she did give good house decorating advices, and succeeded quite easily her first mission, unmasking the fake Jim Gordon sent by Strange. She might not be Jim's weak point anymore, but she did know too much about him to just let her rot in the streets.

And her cocktails were amazing.

He was still very amazed to have Zsasz at his side. The guy liked to disappear out of nowhere, making him wondering if he changed side or not, but in the end, would come here again to eat something, asking if there was anything he could do before disappearing again. He did have a room in the manor but Oswald could give it to future guests because clearly, the man never intended to use it. Sometimes they'll see one of his girls come and ask for him, like he really was disappearing from everyone. Oswald wasn't complaining. The man was still at his side and having him come back, even briefly, was the proof that either Fish didn't interest him or she didn't need him. One option was definitely more terrifying than the other.

The Late King of Gotham was really feeling as if his team wasn't even a team, more like people ready to turn on him at any moment.

There was someone, though.

Someone who stood with him to the very end, even took care of his mother's grave while he was suffering in Arkham, probably wanted to help him out of it too. They met some time ago. Even after all that happened, he was still trapped there, probably planning an escape he couldn't possibly reach. Oswald would have him out, but he couldn't show any signs of weakness to anyone. If Fish were to learn he was helping out a friend in Arkham, she would definitely use it against him as soon as she strikes, and he just couldn't allow that. And he didn't even need to say it. Edward knew. In a simple eye contact and not even a sorry, he told him he knew he couldn't help him out, but it was no problem to him. He was fine as long as Strange's weird experiences were over, he had his fun there. He was still convinced he could escape, that was where they differed. Edward was an eternal optimist who could dream even with his rational mind when Oswald could see the reality of this; Edward wasn't escaping any time soon.

Despite all this, his friend, if he could still call him that, offered him a penguin origami, motivating him in a simple sentence that he repeated before finishing his drink.

"Penguins.. eat.. fish."

He laughed at himself. How could Edward still consider him a friend when he left him to rot in that ungodly place? After all the suffering Strange left behind, it was no place for this new-born murderer.

As he was leaving his chair, one of his men brought him a note. After grabbing it without a thanks, just a hand gesture to dismiss him, he opened it. The paper was thin, and the writing was shaky, as if it was written directly against a hard surface, like a rock.

My friend,  
Will you come and visit me again please?  
I wish to talk to you.

Speaking of the Devil.  
Oswald smiled and folded the paper before putting it in his pocket, went to his room and got one of his best suit out, taking a new coat to go with it. After fixing his hair and giving a one last glance at that reflection he hated so much, he took at deep breath and left for the door.  
He walked outside, gesturing to the first person he saw to get in the car.

"We're going to Arkham."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has to get to a charity event, despite being still shaken by his meeting with Jerome. Alfred surprises him with some possible info on their adversary. Meanwhile, Oswald finally meets back with Edward, tortured by his guilt of letting him in such a place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was also beta-ed by cobblestyles (on AO3)!!  
> I'm sorry if you do not like 1750's costumes, this chapter won't be your jam, aha
> 
> I would like to already thank people for the 4 kudos they gave to the 1st chapter, you're the reason fanfic writers keep going, stay gold!

# First Dance

### Chapter 2

He tried his best. He really did.  
But nothing could stop Alfred to bring him to yet another ridiculous charity ball, full of people who cared little for charity, just hoping to meet other wealthy friends and maybe get a new collaboration. Bruce really hated this but on the other hand, it was a good opportunity to talk to the people owning his company, maybe helping him getting closer to this giant puppet master controlling Gotham by the tip of their fingers. That's the argument that Alfred used to bring him there anyway. He opened one of his closet, looking at the suits without really any will, taking a simple black one out.

 

"Oh.. That surely won't do, Master Bruce."

 

He turned his gaze around to look at him, interrogating him with his eyes. Why wasn't that good? He didn't bother wearing anything else before.

 

"I did tell you this party was different than usual, thankfully, we won't need to buy you something for the occasion, as it turns out, your father loved to wear the proper attire in any occasion when he was your age."

 

He followed him to a chest in one of the unused storage room, gasping when he opened it.

 

"There is no way."

 

He could already see the amusement in the man's eyes and he hated it. Inside a chest was a complete collection of suits and costumes inspired from 1750, of all the colours you could find. He looked at Alfred again, his gaze turning into a frown, crossing his arms.

 

"I did not take you for a fool, Master Bruce. I wouldn't force you into those pants, I promise. But would you consider the vest at least?"

 

Bruce's eyes went back to the chest and kneeled in front of it, burying his hand into the many costumes, taking them out one by one; there was some really crazy colours in there. He was imagining his dad making the order for it, trying them in shops, having the time of his life probably. He did love to play around before he passed away, he could imagine him being a real pain when he was 16. He wasn't even surprised to see the costumes being well-kept, not even a single dust on them, Alfred must've kept them clean and safe all this time. And he was glad for it.

 

After taking out most of them, he finally found it. Something that will be perfect for the evening. A proper black vest with velvet patterns, much like plants, covering it. There was a matching coat, with dark grey embroideries covering the borders of it. Classy and simple. And he knew black suited him best. He could see Alfred getting a bit disappointed but still agreeing with his choice. He went back to his room, just wearing a simple white shirt underneath it (there was no way he would ever wear a jabot in his life). He decided to go with grease black pants, a bit skinny, with some basic dress shoes. He could barely recognize himself in the mirror, he seemed like a young heir, just after the funeral of the king.. Which wasn't completely untrue. He smiled at the irony and hoped it will at least provoke some of the guests there. After putting some of his mother's perfume, he decided to join Alfred who was in, of course, full attire, ready to serve.  
He was starting to wonder if going there wasn't just for Alfred's amusement more than anything else.

 

They arrived fashionably late of course, parking next to the building where people, covered in wonderful costumes, were all walking to; he could hear the laughs and music from here. He was astonished by how many guests were wearing the proper wigs too, thank god ridiculous couldn't kill. As he was ready to leave the car, he was stopped by Alfred's hand on his arms.

 

"I may have forgotten to tell you something, Master Bruce."

 

He was readying for the worst. Never, in his life, will he ever wear one of those wigs. This was out of the question. They got out of the car and he stared at him, unsure of what's to come.

 

"Now, if you'll allow me."

 

Alfred took out a laced mask, holding it delicately as if it was a baby bird, bringing it to his face and tying it behind his head, he took a step back to look at him.

 

"There. You look great."

 

"This is a Masked Ball?"

 

"Ingenious, isn't it? With some luck, you can pry even more infos to anyone who won't recognize you right away. And I checked the guests list, to make sure no one will try to play that game on you."

 

Why did ever doubt of Alfred? This man was definitely the best asset in his whole life. He smiled and thanked him before looking at his reflection on the car while Alfred was putting his on. It was a thin, comfortable, laced mask, with some velvet patterns matching his coat and vest, he whispered.

 

"It looks like a bat."

 

"Your mother used to wear it."

 

He smiled a bit more, and had to straighten to stop any laugh from coming out of him when he saw Alfred's mask. Why the feathers... Why?

 

They went in, it was impossible to not be amazed by the sight that welcomed them. A huge ballroom, with all those costumes shining around, some people wearing their best jewels that would be too flashy for an everyday life. Bruce looked around and felt like a child in a fairytale. Everyone was laughing and dancing to the orchestra in the main room, the buffet offering the best that could be made; he didn't want to stand out, but he was the only one who chose to go with black it seems. He stepped near the main marble stairs leading to the people dancing, looking over them; it looked truly magical.

 

As soon as people started looking at them, he straighten a bit, wearing his most gentle smile, knowing what was coming next: the introductions. People recognizing him went straight to greet him, he made sure to give them his best impression. Alfred went to the buffet to get them some food in the meanwhile.

 

An hour went by and still no infos about his main target. He was wondering if the word went around and everyone knew who he was by now. But he wasn't the only one with dark colors outfit anymore. Some people, apparently still grieving over the loss of a family named Van Dahl. Apparently, only the master of the house perished, after finally reunited with his long lost son, but once he was gone, it seems like everyone left the house, leaving the son alone. A sad story really. But what caught Bruce's eyes was one of the guests suit. Someone was as excited about this as Alfred. Wearing a half Venetian Mask, almost hiding him completely, leaving only his eyes and mouth, neck quickly hidden in a high jabot, his hair under one of those ridiculous wig. His suit was purple with dark green patterns, dark enough for him to think it was black at first. He was role playing completely, exagerating on the accent.

 

That was intriguing. As if this man wasn't even trying to hide, but showing he was hiding something. He wasn't going to fall for a trap that obvious. Even if it could not be a trap at all, just somebody having fun. His laugh, however, would send shivers to his spine, reviving a memory he would gladly forget; especially during a charity event. Never in his life would he have thought someone else could have the terrifying laugh that Jerome did, but it looks like he did cursed Gotham after all. He tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible, but it was difficult to ignore the man's behaviour, so when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder, he wasn't surprised to see him as he turned around.

 

"You're probably the most interesting person I've seen all night."

 

The man didn't seem to roleplay anymore, which was a big relief to him.

 

"That's... A bit rude to say when others are surrounding us, don't you think?"

 

He leaned to his ear, whispering.

 

"Coming from someone who came here to pry infos out of these pour souls, it's rather ironic."

 

Bruce turned in head to his, suddenly rather close to the man, glad his facial expression could be somewhat covered by his mask. Before he could say anything, the gloved hand was on his lips.

 

"How do I know that? It's not that hard to see, really. You are a terrible detective, you know that? I've seen how you talk to the others, slowly trying to get the person above them, in the hopes they'll know something. What you seem to ignore, is that it's pointless."

 

He took his hand away, dusting Bruce's suit to stop people from looking at them too suspiciously. However, thanks to his prior behaviour, people just thought he was being a fool, as before. Bruce was ready to ask him who he was when a finger slowly slid on the scar at his neck, making him shiver before backing away, his hand protecting firmly his skin.

 

"An interesting scar you got there, Mister Wayne."

 

"Who are you?"

 

The man's smile got wider and significantly more terrifying.

 

"I could tell you but where's the fun in that? Tell you what... I would suggest you to stop looking for answers during the play... Maybe you'll find what really happens in the backstage."

 

And with that, he left and took the first person he could find to start dancing with them, stopping Bruce from running after him without causing a scene. The boy straightened up and thought going to Alfred right away, but he seemed into a deep conversation, probably looking for answers on his own.

 

The hint the man gave him wasn't that hard of a guess. He looked at the stage and located the backstage quite easily, he sneaked there, making sure no one could notice, thankful for wearing black as he was matching with the shadows behind the curtains. The change of atmosphere was breathtaking, he could still hear the orchestra but it felt like he was all alone in the place, only his feet to break the muffled symphony. As soon as he realised how loud his steps where while wearing his dress shoes, he took them off and started walking around silently. He was wondering what he could find here when a full ball was happening, surely, the security was everywhere.

 

Then again, this was Gotham after all.

 

He heard it again, that terrifying laugh. Coming from one of the staff's door, he walked slowly and pushed it as carefully as he could. A loud scream and a bucket falling loudly onto the ground made him jump and put a hand on his mouth to stop his own voice from betraying him. As his heart beats were settling, he scolded himself for falling for such a simple trick. But the loud thud coming from the room stopped his breath right away. He stepped into the room and felt his foot hit something; it was too dark to guess what is was. He tried to walk around searching for a switch, only the lights from the backstage helping him, until the door closed in a slam, making him jump again. He struggle to get back to it, finding the switch not far and the light hurt his eyes for a minute.

 

He turned back and was greeted by a body on the ground, blood spreading everywhere. It was still fresh, the man was still moving, shaking. Bruce's back was completely against the door, he had trouble getting his breath back, staring at the body on the ground, it took him sometimes before his courage came right back, making him run to the man, rolling him to his back.

 

"Can you hear me?! I'm going to get hel-"

 

He was interrupted by a blood spit on his face and that terrifying laugh again. As he opened his eyes, he noticed the body was nothing but a fake mannequin, a note stuck on its chest. He couldn't believe what just happened. It was the second trick he fell for and it was starting to be annoying. He took the note in his hand, ready to open it before hearing steps in the backstage. Quickly, he ran against the wall and turn the lights off, over-hearing the most-likely security guard walking around.

 

"Why are we looking for a kid in the backstage? He probably ran off somewhere, I would've! With all these freaks around.."

 

The voices were fainting again and Bruce took this as a queue to leave. He put the note inside his jacket's pockets and started running to an exit, relieved to find Alfred there as soon as he stepped out. As always, no words were needed with the man, he helped him put his shoes back and started to go for the exit before anybody noticed the blood on Bruce's face and shirt.

 

As they took a step outside, Bruce was stopped by a familiar figure, a hand trapping his chin.

 

"Blood and black looks good on you, Brucie."

 

Annoyed, he slapped the hand away and let Alfred pull him towards their car, not leaving the man's eyes with his furious glare.

 

On the way home, he told everything to Alfred, the man's blaming himself for not going after the man himself. But Bruce knew it would've been pointless, even he couldn't have as much informations as they wanted, judging by his act, he was probably just a pawn in the grand chess game his adversaries were playing. He didn't tell the man about the note, knowing fully well he would have him burn it right away for fear of poison or bomb or whatever someone can fit in a note these days. The man would burn it even if it was only hurtful words, really.

 

As they got home, Bruce went straight for a shower and they talked about today's discoveries, rather poor but still, they knew who to talk to next time they go to an event of the sort. As it was getting late, he went to his bedroom and made sure to stay awake until Alfred went to bed. He took out the note, put on his gloves and looked everything before opening it, standing next to his window under the moon's light. After judging it wasn't dangerous, he opened it slowly and was greeted by a clown's laugh, red and black confettis jumping at him, spreading over his blue stripped pajamas. He growled and spit some of them out before reading the very well written note.

 

"Let's play, I will wait for you."

 

He frowned at that, he really didn't like people talking in riddles, especially since Arkham. But since he couldn't find anything else written there, he put the note in the drawer of his desk, getting rid of the confettis before going to bed.

 

His dreams were haunted by that smile again.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

As they were getting closer to Arkham, Oswald realised how much he hated coming back there. The memories of the torture Strange did to him where immeasurable, the pain was brought back to his head and bodies every time his eyes laid on the building's walls. The man wasn't even dead yet. He was well kept in a little prison cell, probably heavily guarded since the last time that happened, he went to get Galavan, they weren't going to let the same thing happen twice. He didn't have Harvey in his pocket either, which was annoying. The man was probably going to give Fish all his support as soon as he sees her and he will have to struggle, not even having Jim wrapped around his finger anymore.

 

The gates opened and he was welcomed with guns as soon as he stepped out, he opened his arms, letting them search.

 

"I'm just visiting. Surely, you don't think I'm stupid enough to come and attack you alone."

 

He swear he heard a guard muttered 'you might be', but he had to let it slide. He didn't want any trouble, yet.  
He walked into the prison, touching the wall as he walked next to it, remembering that time he was held against it while being restrained. He wish the place exploded when it was supposed to. The only thing making him regretting this thought was that Nygma would've perished from it. He entered the visiting room and sat calmly, waiting for them to bring him.

 

The Penguin couldn't avoid the smile growing on his face when his friend's was so wide as he saw him. He looked poorer by the day, sadly. Oswald wondered if they even let him showered. He leaned when he sat down, trying to invade his personal space again, only to hit his nose against the glass separating them. He gave him a sorry smile, hoping it was comforting enough.

 

"How are you doing, my friend?"

 

It should be him, asking that. Seeing the dark under Nygma's eyes, the marks on his wrists probably from the restrains. He leaned back on his chair, his hands still on the table, next to the glass.

 

"Not well, I'm afraid."

 

The sad expression he made could've broken any hearts, he was glad it was also full of compassion, not that he really deserved any.

 

"What is troubling you?"

 

A breath escaped him as he straighten, refusing to look too defeated to anyone, even to the one he trusts most. He played with his fingers a bit, avoiding his eyes.

 

"Thanks to your support, I was ready to welcome Fish as the King of Gotham. She does not make a move. She waits silently, probably knowing I'm getting scared by the day. Who knows who she has at her side..."

 

He shrugged, still avoiding Nygma's eyes, but seeing how his fingers were slowly moving to the glass, trying to bring his attention.

 

"I am prepared, but still. The feeling that anyone around me is ready to betray me for that... bitch.. It's... Infuriating. Scary. I don't know who to trust anymore. For all I know, someone could be right behind me with a knife at this very moment."

 

"Look at me."

 

Edward brought the palm of his hand up against the glass, bring Oswald eyes to his, he swallowed a bit, realising he might have been on the verge of tears by finally allowing some emotions out. Edward's eyes were kind, reassuring, comforting even. It was like that time he took care of him, and they got colder, exactly like when he told him about how they didn't need anyone, ever. He really liked the man's strength, it was incredible how much he could withstand and still keep a smile. He was still seeing him as powerful and strong, even after he almost lost everything. He couldn't even imagine what was going on in this mind of his.

 

"No one is going to stab you because I will always watch your back, my friend."

 

This hit something in Oswald heart, pinching a string and tearing it apart. He used so simple and cheesy word and yet, it was giving him all the strength and hope he ever needed. He stood up abruptly, making the man jump on his chair, worried.

 

"Did... Did I said something wrong?"

 

"I'm getting you out."

 

"What?"

 

Oswald was adjust his caught as the man got up, leaning against the glass with his hands.

 

"You can't do that, if you do you migh-"

 

"Yes.. Well... Screw that."

 

And there it was. One of his favourite sight of Oswald. That little smile in the corner of his mouth, like a boy just about to do something he was clearly told not to. He left without more but Nygma's smile was widening by the second. Of all the things, he was more happy to have somebody at his side, than getting out of here. After all that happened, he had still someone ready to put himself in danger for him. And even if it was stupid, dangerous, and probably going to lead to doom, he was even happier to know he won't be alone walking towards it.

 

The evening of the same day, a car was again stopping in front of Arkham, and this time tension went way higher when Zsasz came out of it with some of his gang, a guard tried to tell him they had to check for weapons and he simply put a hand on his shoulder.

 

"You do not want to do that."

 

And the man agreed as he slowly stepped away. Arkham might be one of the most well-guarded prison, nothing could stand in the way of this man, and he knew it very well. He went straight to the headmaster's room and sat on a chair in front of him, two of his girl standing next to the door, inside and outside. He smiled.

 

"We don't want any trouble."

 

The man was reaching for the reinforcements button under his desk and stopped as soon as he saw the knife playing in the murderer's hand.

 

"Now... We just want Edward Nygma. Just one individual. Give him to us. There won't be any murder, any danger, just a simple round trip."

 

The man was going to protest before the knife stabbed the desk.

 

"You know.. My Boss really REALLY doesn't like this place."

 

He swallowed hard, knowing fully well who he was talking about.

 

"And it's very surprising he hasn't yet tried to tear it down. But he could. He really could. Now, he did told me I could just kill my way to the man and leave. But what can I say? I'm merciful."

 

The laugh was cold, making him wondering if he was supposed to laugh too or not.

 

"Get him and leave."

 

"A wise decision."

 

As he stood up, he left a paper on the man's desk.

 

"A present, if you will."

 

The man carefully opened it, fearing what it could be.

 

"It's just... a list of names?"

 

"My Boss remembers them all. He thought he shouldn't be alone to cry the loss of those who perished here under your predecessor."

He left, leaving the headmaster in shock on his chair, calmly ordering them to deliver Nygma. There was nothing he could do against the King of Gotham, could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if Ed's release seems a bit rushed, I wasn't really happy with it but couldn't force my brain to something more interesting, aha.
> 
> Also, I love Zsasz.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is getting another note in the middle of the night while disturbing dreams comes to haunt him. Meanwhile, Edward discovers a new place, a new life, waiting for him outside of Arkham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has also been beta-read by cobblestyles (on AO3). Her Nygmobblepot fanfic is getting a very interesting turn and it's really in-character, I highly recommend it!
> 
> I would like to remind that we're not native English speakers!
> 
> Also, this is mainly based on the TV Show, I have taken almost none of the comics as references, so sorry for future inconsistencies!
> 
> Warning: getting very OOC (I think?)

# First Dance

### Chapter 3

"And now! Back to my favourite hostage!!"

 

The floor was covered with bodies and blood, people he cared about, people he crossed path with, people he couldn't even remember, he was shaking, unable to move, feeling as if his fists were tied up against a wall, he looked up, the tall man walking him, dancing and jumping around the bodies almost childlike as he was doing his best to escape his restrain. But now he was against him, a knife at his throat. He looked at that crazy smile, his gaze slowly going up to the eyes matching it. Breathing was getting harder and harder, he tried to speak but it was as if words were stuck in the madness of this man. He felt the cold metal against his neck, he couldn't leave his eyes as he was sure that this time, he was going to die once and for all. He considered begging him, knowing this wouldn't lead anywhere.

 

A hand caressed his cheek.

 

"Gotham's truest Hero, falling to it's beloved Jester!"

 

"Jerome I-"

 

Nothing else, as he saw red covering the man’s face, a hand still caressing his cheek, soothing him as he was feeling... relief? It felt as if he was finally away from all of this, arms taking him in, a whisper in his ear.

 

"Death is no Freedom, my dear."

 

The boy got up suddenly on his bed. A hand reaching at his throat as he was coughing for air, his whole body shaking, covered in cold sweat. He was shaking. Slowly, he left his bed, getting rid of his ruined pajamas, going to the shower next to his room. Once he left it, he went to splash more water on his face, staring at his reflection again. Since the charity ball, he kept having these dreams disturbing him almost every night, waking him up at ungodly hours. It wasn't always starring that madman, sometimes it will be that guy they met at the ball, sometimes it'll be Nygma too.

 

He read in the newspaper some days ago that the man has been released from Arkham. Why and how, he didn't care, probably by corrupting somebody important enough. He knew he wasn't the main target of this man, he just wishes to wreck havoc in the city, or even just the police department, he was nothing to him. But it was difficult to forget their encounter. After all, he and Lucius almost died that day, making him realises how much he was putting people around him in danger. Jim, Lucius, Selina, Alfred... He had so many lives dancing around him and he almost lost them so easily. He refused to let it happen again, but for now he was not strong enough to withstand anything alone. But this time will come. Hopefully.

 

Lately he was forced to stay home and continue his research from there. Alfred noticed they've been a bit too much under the spotlights since the attack in Arkham. And now, surely, some people were talking about the Wayne boy running away covered in blood from a charity event. No, really, it was better to stay low for a while. Much to Bruce's disappointment. In the end, they were close to something that day. If only they could've talk to this man again, convince him for a meeting, even if he didn't seem like someone anywhere right in his mind to ever accept such an invitation. He still had his note in his desk and yet no contact from him. He was holding on to it. Wishing things could go faster.

 

He put on a black shirt and his blue striped pajama pants before going back to his room, automatically noticing something was off. He slid next to the bed and took the letter opener he left on his night stand, ready to defend himself at any moment. The window seemed opened, wind blowing through the curtains, making them float. He relaxed, only Selina was the one doing this, but as he got closer to take the curtains off, he was surprised to see no one there. Closing the window, he thought she might have decided to not stay, as he turned around, a note was left on his bed. As soon as he saw it, he ran back to the window to open it abruptly, leaning to try and spot who could've left it. But they were probably long gone.

 

He tsk in disappointment and closed the window again, putting back the gloves on his hands before taking the note on his bed. It was covered with flower petals, by the looks of it, it was lilacs and roses of sharon.. And he knew what they meant to. Consumed by Love, really? Someone seemed over-dramatic. Lilac meant admiration, and he could hardly think of anyone admiring him, after all, his public life was nothing to envy, if you forget about the power and the wealth at his young age... maybe there was a bit to admire.

 

After carefully examining the note, as he did for the first one, he opened it with the letter opener, mindful of any confettis that could trick him again, but nothing came. The words were simply carved in the paper, almost like cursive, with purple ink.

 

I keep waiting, and waiting..  
And yet, you are not coming.

What shall I say?  
Don't you want to play?

 

Bruce sighed, he was not impressed.  
Of all the people that could've helped him get to this unknown adversary, he had to deal with yet another guy who's place was definitely in Arkham. The guys first welcome him with blood and fear, and then invites him with flowers and poems? This was getting scarier by the day. And yet, he needed to get to him, needed to know more about all of this. He was guessing that the invitation was to meet alone? Waking up Alfred was probably not the best plan. He opened the previous note he had and carefully smelled it. It was faint after all these days but there was definitely a scent of these flowers he left with the second note. Bruce hoped he was more scrupulous, he could've avoided waiting for so long. He also knew these flower were somewhere in their huge garden, because he remembered his mother's laugh when his dad was worried the flower will die after a long time without sun. And really, it was a miracle if they were still there.

 

He grabbed the first large sweater he could find, put some socks before leaving the room as discreet as he could. He couldn't get out his window like Selina, or this stranger could, so he had to do his way to the guest's room, where it was much easier for him. He grabbed his shoes on the way there, knowing using the main door was only a waste of time, Alfred would notice right away. Speaking about him, despite doing his very best to stay discreet, he could hear him leaving his room and coming to his direction, he hid against a wall, facing the back door/window showing the huge garden. There, was a silhouette. Bruce's eyes widen as it waved a hand at him, he tried to move, to tell them to leave, Alfred will spot them right away as he steps out of the stairs.

 

He had to admit, it was rather comical to see the shadow understanding his moves and then run behind bushes. Even if it was probably a mass murderer, an evil genius or, hopefully, just a mobster.

 

He listened as Alfred was just slowly getting to the kitchen, probably getting something to drink... Hopefully. He stayed silent and as soon as the kitchen door closed, he silently went back for the stairs, looking at the shadow one last time who seemed to be running straight to their meeting place. He carefully went up the stairs and escaped by the guest rooms, making sure nothing was left behind leading to his escape. He silently asked for Alfred forgiveness.

 

Once outside, he carefully avoided any easily spotted windows and started running in the same direction the shadow went. The air was cold, but not yet unbearable, there was also no wind, making it way easier to walk around without being too cold. The fog was thick, leaving a strange, almost unreal, atmosphere around. Bruce could've wondered if this was a dream, but the morning dew wetting the hem of his pants, making it stick to his legs, proved the contrary. Thankfully, the fog wasn't thick enough to block his view, and soon he could see the flowers in the distance, he was glad it wasn't too far away in the end, and just hidden enough for preventing Alfred from seeing them.

 

He arrived in front of the flowers, looking around and not seeing a single soul, until he noticed petals on the ground, leading him.

 

He was running to a trap, and he couldn't admit it, but he was loving every steps towards it.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

The first day Edward arrived at the huge manor, he couldn't believe his eyes. He had to admit, when he saw they were getting farther and farther away from Gotham, he started to worried he wasn't already being kidnapped by one of Oswald's many enemies. And, to be fair, he could be scared. After all, last time he saw that assassin, he and his girls were ready to kill everyone for Jim Gordon. And to think that, at that time, he would've probably helped the man, unbelievable.

 

When the car finally stopped after driving through what looked like one of the biggest garden he's ever since, he stepped out of it and stayed there in shock. The manor was beautiful, old but well-kept, with an architecture worthy of any Adams movie, and yet not comically creepy neither. Zsasz leaned on the car next to him, amused by the man's astonishment, he let him looked around, closed his mouth, before looking back at him.

 

"Wait until you see the inside. I have to admit, the Boss couldn't have find better."

 

He left the car, inviting him to follow. Edward stumbled on his own feet, still looking at the walls and the windows, surprised to already get some looks behind the curtains. The inside was as breathtaking as the outside. Every detail, every paintings on the wall. You could see some has been rearranged by Oswald himself, but the added detail was only giving an even better touch to it. Well, except for the head in the living room. That... Wasn't part of his tastes. He winced a bit at it, apparently offering some entertainment to the assassin guiding him. He was lead to a corridor and a huge office, surrounded by huge bookshelves filled with old books he probably couldn't find anywhere anymore. And there was Oswald, royally sitting on his chair in front of his desk. The settings was only making the man look even more attractive... no, dangerous. Not attractive.

 

"Edward! I am so glad to finally see you!"

 

For once, he could see a genuine happy smile on his friends face, and he was feeding on it, joining in. He stepped closer to the desk, his hand joined in front of him.

 

"My friend, I would like to thank you.. A million times! Even more! For what you have done for me!"

 

He couldn't even express how glad he was. He was finally out of this hell and saved by one of his closest friend nonetheless. He wanted so badly to hold his hands, it's been so long since he had a friendly contact with anyone. And Oswald might have read it in his body language because he stood up and took his hands in his.

 

"You do not need to thank me. You saved my life. I couldn't let you rot in there."

 

Oh my... Edward could feel a warm feeling reassuring him. He was not alone. There was no thanks, no debts.. Just pure and simple friendship. He smiled even more.

 

"Victor will lead you to your room, I still have some work to take care of, but I will see you for dinner."

 

Wait what?

 

"I'm... I'm to stay here? What about my place?"

 

Oswald took a bitter expression, making him instantly regret anything he said.

 

"I wasn't fast enough. I'm sorry. It seems like your old colleagues destroyed your place.. I tried to save as much as I could and put it in your new place. You can decorate it as much as you like!"

 

Edward lost his smile for a moment.

 

"Pigs."

 

Oswald couldn't help the sorry look, making him, yet again, regret what he said, his hands held his more firmly.

 

"Thank you so much for all you've done. But.. Is it really acceptable for me to stay here? I'm-"

 

"Edward. There is nowhere, rather than next to me, that I would like to see you."

 

And for the second time, Edward was fighting this warm feeling invading him. He felt like the first time he saw Mrs Kringle, yet this was a totally different situation. There was no love at first sight... or maybe there was? This was starting to be infuriating, he needed to leave.

 

"Then, I will get to my room, right away."

 

He let Oswald slid his hands out of his, touching them from the tip of his fingers as they left. He needed to stop this. He straighten up, ready to follow Zsasz who was already walking up the stairs. He followed him, still amazed and looking at every details in the place. As they got to a door, the man stopped and knocked on it.

 

"This is yours. The Boss' right next to you, in case you have any troubles. I'm two doors away too, if he's busy and you need anything."

 

Strangely, Edward thought he'd rather ask anyone but him ever.

 

"I'm rarely here, though."

 

Good. He laughed before jumping at the hand offered in front of him.

 

"I'm Victor Zsasz, by the way."

 

"We already me-"

 

As he crossed his stare, Edward just gave back his hand and shaked his, smiling.

 

"Edward Nygma, a pleasure."

 

Help me!!!!

The man laughed a bit and pat his shoulder before telling him to settle, and he took the opportunity to leave him as soon as he could. He didn't need another serial killer trying to murder him. As he entered, he was impressed by the room, definitely one of the largest. The tapestry was covered of green and gold, matching a green and black bed. He recognize some of his furnitures here and there, definitely not in the right place, but he could arranged that. What really pleased him was to see his piano, intact, sitting next to a large window. He smiled as he went to caress and even hug it, it's been so long since he last played, he was so glad to finally be reunited with it.

 

He contemplated the idea to start playing right away, but that would give a bad impression to his new roommates, probably. And he really needed to take a shower. The bathroom was huge too, welcoming, not too impressive to stay comfortable. He hurried to finally get rid of the stench of this ungodly place that was Arkham. When he got out, he was surprised to find some clothes, apparently picked by Oswald in the wardrobe. He couldn't resist when he saw the deep green sweater waiting for him and wore it right away, on top of a simple shirt and dark jeans. He sat back to his piano, testing the keys, glad that it was kept so well during all this time. And, as if trapped by it, he started playing. Too bad for his first impression, it's been so long.

 

"You're the guy who started playing the piano at 4pm!"

 

Edward didn't know if he was suppose to take this as a threat or not. They were all sitting for dinner, well, not all of them, but most of them. The woman addressing him was Galavan's sister, he recognized her right away, if he hadn't seen the reports pictures, he would've recognize the obvious sibling traits. He tried a simple smile, hoping to hide his embarrassment.

 

"Yes. I am. Sorry if I've disturbed you."

 

"On the contrary, I really liked when you played one of Beethoven's Sonata."

 

Oh, that was a big relief. Even if he was probably smarter than most of this people, he didn't want to have to deal with any of them. They were all trained murderers after all.

 

Time passed and Edward just slowly adapted to his new home, being the only person awake during the day probably, sometimes being the one helping Oswald to bed (more forcing, really) when he spent the whole night working. His friend trusted him enough to get the morning reports and getting them ready for him when he wakes. He would occupy himself during the day until 3pm, where he would start to make tea for the first to wake up. The first one was often Tabitha, always greeting him with a death glare, she wasn't quite herself when she was just waking up. But after a nice cup of tea, they could start chatting happily. She was such a well educated woman, it was a delight to speak to her. Not a fan of the riddles, sadly.

 

Sometimes, Barbara would join them and drink next to them, just listening. Edward was very surprised at first to see her here; but he agreed with Oswald thoughts for keeping her. She was mostly listening to them, but he could see in her eyes, she also knew quite much, she could add to the conversations, but either she had to keep her act, or her madness took that away from her; a terrible thought. Barbara was, in fact, loving the riddles. Sadly for him, she always had the most obscure of answers, leaving him completely out of words. And the good answers always seemed illogical to her. Which did annoyed him at some point.

 

Butch was a coffee guy. He likes the drums. He didn't like the riddles. He could only talk so little to this man, but he was still trying to offer him tea every day.

 

But the most unexpected was how close he got to Victor. They had almost nothing in common, and yet they enjoyed each other's company. They both didn't like to get bored. And Victor was the most likely to come to visit during the day, they would spend the day talking about the new reports, sometimes he would play the piano and Victor would just listen while resting on the sofa in his room. They had this complicity when it was coming to murder, they did love to talk about it. Edward loved his scars, he thought it was a form of art, in a way, the man thinking he was reading too much into it. And he was the one carving them. He didn't really liked the riddles, but enjoyed Edward's excitement about them.

 

While they were looking at one of the last report, Oswald was watching over them, leaning against the door. Edward succeeded to bring something that this house was cruelly missing; a sense of family. Oswald always made clear that he and his men were family, and yet when he was seeing them all interact as such, he was feeling as if he wasn't allowed to feel that way. He lost his only family, twice, he didn't need to rebuild one that will surely crumble under his eyes too. It didn't matter if he wasn't part of this, as long as it made them ready to strike when Fish was going to.

 

Edward noticed Oswald distancing himself from all of this, which was one of his biggest heartbreak. If not for him, he would still be rotting somewhere in Arkham, dreaming of a warm house, full of smiles. Maybe he misunderstood him when he told him to be without weaknesses. He surely wasn't expecting him to take it that literally. After all, he was the one saying it and yet here he was, building a family. But there was no weakness in that. If tomorrow, one of them went to die, he wouldn't be suffering as much as Oswald did when he lost his mother and father. And the result is nothing to compare, the rage of having someone taken away, the strength it provides, he learned to feed from it. But Oswald seemed to fear it more than anything.

 

"I am such a sight to see, and yet a poison to-"

 

"That's you."

 

"W... Well... uhm.. I'm flattered but uh... it's not the-"

 

"I know it's not the right answer, Nygma."

 

Zsasz took his coat and put it on, ready to leave for the night.

 

"Are you leaving for your place again? Do you even use your bed?"

 

"I'm going to check on one of our club. And you can come use the bed anytime."

 

"Will you stop?"

 

Edward was laughing, Victor took a use to try to fluster him. Sometimes it worked. That platonic game of theirs was a new fun addition to his life here. However, his friend might have noticed his undying "respect" for Oswald, as he was doing everything to get them talking again. Probably knowing, as much as Edward, that his Boss would get way more powerful without moping all day. Everyone was ready to get to bed before Zsasz's voice echoed in the hallways.

 

"Hum.. Boss.."

 

Oswald turned around to see him holding a head in his hand by the hair. Recognizing the features immediately, he put his hand on his mouth.

 

"Oh no..."

 

"Who is this?"

 

Edward looked around, Barbara and Tabitha didn't seem to know but, judging by the sadness Butch was trying to hide, something wrong was going on.

 

"He's the bouncer of the club I have to visit tonight."

 

Oswald eyes were turning terrifying, making even Victor shiver for a minute. Fish had made a move. Barbara hid a bit behind Tabitha, if Anger was a being, it would've manifest in Oswald at this right moment.

"I guess the time has come."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce might be running into a trap in his own garden but he's loving every steps of it. Oswald goes to his club and gets an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, huge thanks to cobblestyles (AO3) for her beta-reading!
> 
> And also, a big thanks to you guys for the kudos and comments, you're adorable!

# First Dance

### Chapter 4

The cold air was starting to make his body shake slightly, he rubbed his own arms, despite his legs being the coldest. Fog was enveloping everything around the garden, the manor still visible but for how long? The moon was almost full and offering a welcomed sight of the surroundings. Slowly, he made his way, following the petals on the ground.

 

Bruce wasn't really fond of this game of hints and clues. Sure, it was fine as long as he was, at least, in some control, but right now he felt like his opponent had a crushing advantage. Thinking about it, he was pretty foolish to just run to them, not even giving a warning to Alfred. He had this strange feeling that he was like an acrobat, walking a thin line between the space and time of his life. He already started walking, there was no going back, and each steps was a risk of falling and never getting up again; the only thing keeping him going was the reward at the end of the line. Yet again, temptation was stronger than reason and trapped him there.

 

The petals stopped near the small woods surrounding the manor, a bit more ominous at this time of night, the fog not helping. Looking around, he could notice how steps were left, leading him to the person he wished to meet. He knew the woods pretty well by now, and knew he wouldn't be able to get lost, even by night. The moonlight was weaker, almost threatening, between the trees. Not enough to scare him away anyway. Careful steps were taken, following brothers carved on the mud.

 

He could guess the person he was meeting was probably tall, judging by the size of their footprints, except if they wore different shoes, which was unlikely. And the footprints were left intentionally, deeper than they should be, especially when left by someone who wouldn't want to be discovered by anyone else than their target.

 

Yes, clearly, he was a target in this little game. A mouse led with bits of cheese left here and there. He wasn't going to let anyone catch him either. Bruce knew his role perfectly in this, and hopefully, his opponent was unaware of that, saw him as too young or too careless. A gust of wind stopped his thoughts, protecting his arms with his hands, his head with his shoulder. Maybe he should've opted for a coat or better pants in the end. He shook for a bit before straightening up. The way was clear to him, the way was leading to the old well.

 

There was no way his opponent didn't know about this place. That day Bruce fell down, half of the city knew about it. They still don't know how, but some journalists heard about it and took the occasion to write the article of his life. He shivered while rethinking about the day he fell. His legs hurt and the bats... The bats. They terrified him more than anything since then. He tried to call out and when it woke them up he just stayed silent, hoping someone would come and get him. He might have faced death a lot, but this was still, to this day, the scariest time he had. Because he was weak, he thinks to himself.

 

Looking around, no one seemed to be waiting for him. The stones were still old and uneven, dangerous. From the tip of his fingers, he felt the cold surface, looking around hoping to find another hint, or even seeing the person coming out of nowhere. But nothing, not even a sound. The wind stopped and the trees went silent, only Bruce's steps disturbing the peaceful morning. The sky was clearing up, maybe the sun was starting to show.

 

He sighed and knew the only option he had was to look down the well, grabbing the edge, trying to see anything in this pit of darkness. Nothing. As he slowly got on his tiptoes, he heard sudden steps towards him. He felt a hand pushing on his nape, forcing him dangerously towards the terrifying darkness.

 

"Careful not to slide there, kiddo."

 

With a proud smirk, Bruce made his legs quickly dance around his opponent's easily escaping their hand and turning around, grabbing the collar of their shirt and inversing the role, pressing the man's back against the stones, that one laughing all along after a surprised gasp. He froze when he recognized it, the his features slowly showing up under the morning light.

 

"Wow, Brucie! My brave Hero finally starting to look like one!!"

 

He tried to move, to talk, to breathe, but all his thoughts were trapped in a flash of memories. The cold metal against his neck, the laugh in his ears, the laugh in his mind, the blood on the ground.

 

"What's the matter? Seen a ghost?"

 

The laugh... It was back and probably even stronger. He blinked, stopped his hands from shaking, his voice lower than usual.

 

"You're dead."

 

"Except I'm not."

 

A wink added, and Bruce knew only the real him could laugh at death like this. His heart started racing, his mind yelling to just run as fast as he could. But his will, always so determined, wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away from him. He pressed on the man's chest, feeling the long legs close to his moving, holding to the stone. It might be a bit difficult to keep him like so, with the strong height difference, but he couldn't care less.

 

"What do you know?"

 

The laugh, it kept slipping inside his breath, with the cold air, freezing his bones.

 

"You're going to have to be more specific than that, Brucie-boy."

 

The nicknames were annoying but getting angrier would be playing at his game. He had the upper hand in this, losing it to anger wasn't going to help. His breath was deep, showing he was controlling his emotions, and he blamed himself for not being able to hide it. The smile was still deeply carved on the man's face.

 

"Who was behind Arkham?"

 

"What makes you think I know the answer to that?"

 

Bruce straighten up, ready to let him fall.

 

"Then you're no use to me."

 

He released his grip on the boy's shirt, and before he could even feel it, hands were pulling his arm. Not willing to fall, he grabbed the edge again, Jerome using it to pull himself out easily, sliding in his back and holding his arm there, threatening to break it. As soon as Bruce shifted his legs, he easily grabbed him and the boy was flying and hitting a tree. He wasn't expecting him to have such a strength. But coming to life came with some bonuses apparently. He tried to stand up, using the tree as support but was put back on the ground by a leg tripping his. Jerome crouched in front of him, still smiling. He noticed something was wrong. The boy was often smiling, but he showed so many emotions before, and strangely, he felt like his smile was just stuck there, never to fade again.

 

He took his breath back as he pressed his back to the tree, challenging him with a stare. He wasn't going to get defeated that easily.

 

"Look at that. You still have that Hero stare of yours."

 

"And you still have that creepy smile."

 

"Well... We all have our cons, really."

 

The voice was annoyed, the smile was still there. Definitely stuck there. Bruce noted it for later. If he was to disappear, it would be easy to search for him by describing a smile that didn't seem to ever fade.

 

"What about a deal, Heir of Wayne's Empire?"

 

Bruce scoffed.

 

"As if I was foolish enough to do that."

 

"You were foolish enough to follow me all the way here, weren't you?"

 

"That was necessary."

 

A hand pressed on the tree, right next to his head, he gave it a look before going back to Jerome's.

 

"Then I'll have to make it interesting."

 

Bruce straighten up, ready to run if he had to, his back still hurt from the hit on the tree, but his legs seemed fine.

 

"What about a little training session?"

 

"I already have Alfred for that."

 

"Psh, what can this old clown teach you?"

 

"Enough to be able to push you into a well, it seems."

 

Bitter voice.

 

"Fair enough."

 

Jerome's free hand pulled out a knife and Bruce felt panic settle in, he crushed his back against the tree, hoping he could just go through it.

 

"If I assure you a reward after our meeting, would you be willing to meet me?"

 

"A reward?"

 

A gasp escaped him as he felt the cold feeling against his neck, right on his scar. He swallowed and did his best to control his shivering, trying not to show fear, despite Jerome's seeing through him way too easily. He felt it slid, reopening an old mark he hoped already gone, a whimper escaping him. As soon as Jerome got up, he put his own hands to the wound, glaring at him, the boy licking the knife, thoughtful.

 

"Who knows? I might tell you about that Council you're looking for."

 

Bruce eyes narrowed.

 

"Council?"

 

A fake surprised expression covered his face, a hand on his mouth.

 

"Whoops... Did that slip?"

 

He left the woods, living Bruce to his thoughts, still laughing, engraving that laugh in his mind yet again.

 

After some time, Bruce got to his feet, the sun was already up. He was hoping Alfred didn't notice his leave. Once he got to his room, climbing the walls of the manor, he rushed to the bathroom to try and find something to hide the, now reopened, wound. He put some bandages on it, wondering if the "I don't want to see this scar anymore" excuse will be good enough for Alfred. He hoped so.

 

Another note was left on his window sill as he came back from the bathroom. An address and a date written on it. He decided to lock tightly his window from now on.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

The ride to the club was a silent and cold one. Some times earlier, Oswald got a call from Zsasz telling they already left the place, leaving mostly havoc behind them. He sighed, hoping the damage wasn't that bad, and easy to repair. Knowing Fish, it wasn't the case. He knew the body count will be damaging but he had to go and check on it. Zsasz was waiting for him next to the door, he stepped to him.

 

"Do you still need me, Boss? I made a patrol around, looks like they vanished."

 

"You'll need to stay. We never know if this isn't a trap."

 

Zsasz nodded, checking his guns before putting them in his coat.

 

"Don't worry, you'll see your boyfriend soon enough."

 

"I'm sorry?"

 

Oswald turned around, smirking at him.

 

"It's pretty obvious, Victor."

 

The man seemed completely clueless, making him doubt about his deductions. After all he's seen, he was sure Edward and his henchman were having a relationship, but when he saw him laugh, he was guessing he got it wrong.

 

"Very funny, Boss. No.. Nygma definitely prefers them.... shorter."

 

When the hint was shrugged away, Zsasz sighed in exasperation. The fact that his Boss was oblivious to the undying "friendship" Nygma was giving him was incredible to him. But he was clearly not good enough with relationships to be any judge.

 

They stepped inside and Oswald sneered at the smell. Every bottle was smashed, the alcohol mixing on the counter and the ground. Bodies were everywhere, staff and clients alike, blood joining the alcohol in a sea of death. He sighed, it was truly hurting to see his favourite place in this state. It had already been in a bad shape when he lost it once in Arkham. Retaking it had been quite easy but now it felt like a huge defeat. Fish wanted the place completely gone, probably because of the memory of owning it.

 

He made sure not to trip on any bodies before hearing muffled yells in an hallway. With a quick head movement, he sent Zsasz to check, the man walking straight for his victims, as the killing machine he was.

 

He was pretty surprised to find Fish's men on the ground, probably ready to ambush them. Actually, he noticed some of Fish's men bodies when he first looked around. He first thought it was their boys fighting back, but looking closely, the injuries were too precise, cuts at the exact right place, painless, quick death. Some didn't have that chance.

 

He felt a breathe coming from above him and as soon as he pointed his guns at it, they were flying out of hands, a flash of silver dancing before his eyes. Red and silver. Somebody landed in front of him, long straight red hair hiding their face as they were launching to him, swords in hand. Unluckily for him, Victor was as strong in hand and hand combat than he was with his guns. He noticed the person was trying to escape him, no intention to fight. But now he was excited. He hit him on the leg, slowing him down and forcing him to block his attacks as he was struggling to run away. A muffled grunt made him deduced he was fighting a man, as he was reaching for his hair, he heard a yell, stopping him in his track.

 

The man escaped but his Boss was in trouble.

 

When Zsasz left, Oswald continued his investigations, counting and noting the bodies and bottles broken. Renovating the place was going to cost, refilling it too. Fish would want him to erase it, erasing with it the shame to lose it to him. But he refused to give that to her, this place was his, and she won't be taking it away. If he had to burn her with the shame of this loss, then he will carve it directly on her skin. The front door slamming open made him jump, reaching for his gun. A single man walking slowly to him.

 

Really? A single man to catch the King of Gotham? And not even Fish in sight? He was disappointed she underestimated him that much. He raised his hands.

 

"Look. I'm not looking for any trouble. I'm sure we can make an ar-"

 

As the man stepped inside the club, the lights offered a sight of the hi's face. Oswald mistook him for another Gilzean, judging by the size. Which meant he could also arrange a deal with him. But as he stepped closer, scales were showing on his body, a face menacing, sharp teeth showing on a closed mouth. It took his breath away, swallowing hard.

 

"I'm.. Sure we can-"

 

"What she says, we do."

 

And before he could ask anything, a hit to his side threw him flying across the club, hitting the hard wood of the stage. He pulled out his gun and tried shooting at the man, walking, unstoppable, in his direction. He was lifted again and smashed against a table.

 

"You fly well, for a Penguin."

 

He growled when he was lifted again, trouble breathing through, probably broken, ribs. He could feel his eye swollen, his lips with it, and probably blood pouring out of his nose. But he grabbed the arm holding him and gave a strong hit in the man's opened mouth with his pointy umbrella, bracing when he flew away, screaming as he hit the floor.

 

The, now really angry, creature was going straight for him before Zsasz was surging out of nowhere, shooting directly to the thing's head, going for the eyes. When it realised its weaknesses were exposed, it ran away, ignoring the bullets hitting its back.

 

Oswald closed his eyes and felt Zsasz holding him, calling for him.

 

"Stop yelling, I'm not gone."

 

He growled before sitting up as much as he could.

 

"Do we have anything?"

 

He nodded, leaving for the hallway he came from, coming back while dragging a body on the floor. Judging by the whimpers, this was still alive.

 

"He was cut to suffer as much as possible, but the final blow was never delivered."

 

"Perfect. In the truck. We're going home."

 

He struggled to get back to his feet, ignoring Zsasz staying next to him, hoping to help. He winced as he tried to follow to the car, he couldn't show weakness, not now. His anger taking over again, the Queen of Monsters was going to pay. He sat down and hope not to pass out on the way to the manor.

 

He slept through it. Startled when he felt the gentle hand on his shoulder, waking him up. He discarded it and left the car, the guy already waiting for him in the basement. He struggled to enter his own house, but felt secured once there, not for long as he met worried eyes waiting for him in the living room.

 

They were all here, clearly waiting for news since they saw Zsasz coming back without him. But the gasp was made by Edward, rushing to him.

 

"What happened?"

 

"It's fine."

 

"I've worked in forensic, these are not fine. Let me look at them."

 

"I said it's fine, Edward."

 

The voice was ordering him to stay away. And he did just so. Not without showing a broken part of his feelings. Oswald wanted to apologize.. But anger got better of him. He needed to get this man to talk, right now.

He walked to the basement and the interrogation began.

 

It was cruel, violent, even for the Penguin. The man was begging for his life, obviously giving nothing, probably because he didn't know anything, but Oswald wasn't going to leave it there. It went in for hours before a hand stopped him. The man was but a mess of tears and blood on the ground.

 

"My friend, may we talk?"

 

They left the room as Zsasz went in, making sure the man doesn't die just yet.

 

Edward convinced him to let Tabitha take care of it, which she did marvelously, as expected. In a matter of minutes, they knew that Fish had powers now. A simple touch charming even the strongest will. The news was crushing but not defeating Oswald. It was just a touch, all he had to do is avoid it. Maybe he'll have to cut those pretty hands of hers then.

 

He got up from his chair, ready to go ask more questions, before being stopped.

 

"Unfortunately, our guest couldn't take more."

 

He sighed. Predictable. Shrugging away the feeling, he showed enough anger to his friend, not feeling it any less.

 

"I will take my leave then."

 

As he walked to his room, he heard Nygma's steps behind him and turned around to him before going to his room.

 

"Will you let me take a look at these injuries, my friend?"

 

A smile, he couldn't stop it. Even after his terrible treatment, Edward was still ready to assist him, ready at his side. He simply accepted and they both walked to his room. As he sat on his bed, Edward brought the first-aid kit they had. He started taking care of his face, making sure not to hurt him too much, wondering what kind of beast could give him such injuries.

 

After some time, he noticed his breathing.

 

"May I see your chest?"

 

Oswald despised the idea, but the man already saw his chest before. He slowly took his vest and shirt off before letting him check it. Refraining shivers when thin fingers were dancing on his skin, a medical eye studying him carefully.

 

"This is disastrous! You should go to an hospital at once!"

 

He grabbed his wrist strongly, feeling like tears were threatening the corner of his eyes.

 

"I trust no one but you, my friend."

 

A broken smile this time. Edward's sad and shocked expression melting slowly as he smiled back.

 

"Forgive me for this then."

 

As he was starting to heal him, he felt great pain paralyzing his body, he grabbed on Edward's arms, begging him to stop, but the man never did. He had a mission now. He had to help his friend. And he won't give up on it, ever.

 

After a long hour, Oswald was exhausted, breathing with difficulty against his pillows, his friends hand slowly dancing in his hair, eyes asking for forgiveness.

 

"Thank you, Edward."

 

His mind drifted off, leaving for a well-deserved sleep. Edward straighten up. Looking at his friend's broken body and mind. He needed rest. He needed support. He needed to accept and trust.

He decided he was going to handle this from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to ask if anyone would like a side-fic about Zsasz and that stranger OC.  
> But then cobblestyles told me she was curious so..  
> Expect one about them once this is done!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce runs to a trap clearly exposed to him but nothing will stop this boy from getting his answers, even if it means he had to play at Jerome's game. Nygma discovers the job Oswald has to deal with every day and refuses to let Fish won this while his friend recovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always thanking my dear cobblestyles (AO3) for her beta-reading and reviews!
> 
> This is becoming very OOC and I'm sorry in advance, I have troubles to get characters right sometimes aha

# First Dance

### Chapter 5

Escaping Alfred again got a bit harder than he thought. The man wouldn't say anything, but he definitely noticed his last early leave from his room. How does he do that? Bruce was afraid he'll never know the answer. The good thing is, he didn't seem to know what happened when he left, and wasn't angry enough to ask any explanations. So Bruce decided not to lie about leaving this time. Well... Half truth his way out of the manor anyway.

 

"And what will you be doing with... Mrs Selina, then?"

 

"We're just.. meeting. That's all."

 

"Oh sure.. Last time we saw her, she was following a crazy kid with a flamethrower, she disappears out of nowhere, as she does, can't say that's a new feature of her... And you're just meeting after months of silence."

 

"...................................... yes."

 

This was not believable in the least, Bruce hoped his puppy eyes game got better and would help buy the man. And surprisingly, it did.

 

"Right. Well. Please be back for breakfast then. Should I bring you there?"

 

"... It is not necessary. Thank you, Alfred."

 

A smile, a hand on the man's arm to reassure him and he left for the door. He was wearing all black, knowing fully well how dangerous the streets were these days. He put on a black leather jacket and a helmet before getting on one of his motorbikes. He took the time he had to learn to drive one, despite Alfred's prompt refusal about it. Last time he walked to Gotham and back to the manor, his legs paid him back, big time, he wasn't ready to relive that experience. The sun was setting as he started up the engine, tightening his gloves and giving a last look behind before driving through the main road.

 

He liked riding around most of the time. Riding in Gotham was scary, but again, what wasn't scary to do in Gotham. Biking around would make you miss your surroundings, a second you're passing by someone but by the time they're attacked, you're already too far to help. Some would find that reassuring, to close their eyes, to be unable to notice. Sadly for Bruce, he hated it. Riding in the countryside around the manor was very enjoyable, since there was nothing else to see. Just the leaves flying next to you, the wind sliding around. It was pleasant.

 

Before he could enjoy it more, he saw the first buildings, he slid between cars, trying to avoid traffic and just follow the road, to the abandoned building Jerome invited him to. He had some trouble finding the right path to get there, it didn't seem like any main roads were leading there; just a narrow street. He stopped not far from it, putting the jacket in the bikes trunk before walking slowly to the building.

 

An uneasy feeling started creeping in his back. He looked around, trying to spot anyone, without success. As his eyes settled back to the street, he noticed the pearls on the ground, slowly leading to the two bodies lying there.

 

He shaked, breath stopping abruptly.

 

Flashes from that night, crawling back in his memories, paralyzing him. He closed his eyes tight, whispering.

 

"No fear."

 

He trained for this. He used to look at the pictures, the newspapers, the documentaries around it, he could go over this. This was a trick, a terrible way to try and dare him to step inside. He looked at the building. Now it made sense why the address seemed odd. It was just the old Opera, closed since the incident, but of course Jerome would've avoided writing the name of the place down. Bruce didn't even realised, he was so used to the name of the it, he did not bother remembering the address. Now he'll make sure to do so.

 

As calmly as he could, he walked to the door, avoiding the fake bodies on the ground, those even wearing appropriate wigs and clothes, trying not to look at it too much. He opened the door and made sure to lock it behind him.

 

It was easy enough to find his way back to the main stage, he remembered it clearly, this whole night was engraved in his memory. His fingers sliding on the soft velvet of the seats, his steps were getting closer to the wooden stage, curtains still opened on a scenery now covered in dust and mold.The sudden laugh did make him jump, looking everywhere without seeing where it was coming from.

 

"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, here comes the one you've been waiting for so long!"

 

He almost rolled his eyes but the long training Alfred gave him about how rude it was seemed to finally pay off.

 

"You're late."

 

The voice was less theatrical this time, he took it as a queue to finally answer.

 

"Sorry, I didn't want to come."

 

Couldn't roll his eyes but wasn't able to stop the sass, it seems.

 

"Ouuuh... That hurts me, Brucie. A good lie, too. But I'll let it slide... after all-"

 

The spotlights turned off abruptly, before readjusting to a darker shade, making the place barely visible.

 

"We do need a good actor for tonight's play!!"

 

Bruce heard the steps coming out of the stage lightning room, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to hide or attack; Jerome did say this meeting was a training session.

 

"So... What about a little game, Wayne boy? If you still know what those are?"

 

"You obviously have more free time than me to know so many."

 

"You're on a roll, it seems! Keep that attitude, audience loves it! Now.. I heard you got better at sneaking thanks to a dirty little cat..."

 

Bruce swallowed hard. If Selina got involved in all this, he would feel incredibly guilty. Of all the things they could get caught in, Jerome's definitely the most dangerous.

 

"What about a little hunt then? Try to catch me, Brucie!"

 

The laugh didn't allowed him to answer, but he knew what was a stake. If he could get him, he would've answers he was looking for.

 

"I'll ease it for you. I can only stay in this room. But you have to give me at least 2 minutes of preparation, what do you say?"

 

Bruce pushed a seat and sat on it, crossing his arms, he was glad he chose to wear black then.

 

"Silent yes. My favourite."

 

And with that, the atmosphere seemed to change completely, as if Jerome wasn't even there to begin with. But Bruce knew he wasn't yet losing his mind enough to have imagine him completely. He took the time he had to take his shoes off. Despite most of his efforts, he hasn't find a pair that would be as silent as he wanted them to be. He just had to hope no one thought of breaking glass around.

 

Those two minutes seemed the longest he ever experienced, but even though the time finally came to look around, he just left his seat and crouched down, waiting for Jerome to make a move. He hunted before, never liked it. But that game he's been playing with the whole city since his parent's death was just a big game and he was the only hunter in it. All he had to do is apply it to this situation, combining it with what he learned from Selina. He really hoped it would work out.

 

He waited, maybe more than two hours, even three, while he heard pipes shaking, fake sounds coming out here and there, but he still couldn't feel Jerome's presence, which meant there was no point in coming after him yet. Until he finally felt him again.

 

He was no longer alone in the opera, he started crawling slowly near the stage, and as he reached it, propped on his two feet, slowly walking around, barely seeing his surroundings. Jerome wasn't near the place, surprisingly; but he will be back for sure. He does love showing off. Carefully stepping around, Bruce started to notice traps, realising that this game had nothing to do with his usual hunt. He wasn’t alone this time. Which was great, Jerome was more likely to make a mistake if he wasn't only hiding, but also hunting. That sparked an idea in Bruce's mind.

 

He noticed the shadow slowly walking around the seats, looking for him, as he was sneaking around. But that's when he disabled one of Jerome's traps that he heard it. A deep breath, right next to him. He slowly crawled against the wall, hidden by a part of it used to knot the ropes. He swallowed hard when he saw the two long legs passing right by him, trying to control his breathing to make it as silent as possible. When a hand slammed right above him, he just bit his own hand to stop himself from screaming or even breathing too hard. He could feel a slow cold sweat slid on his spine. As the steps were slowly fading away, he propped back on his feet. He had to hurry, knowing he played with Jerome's patience for too long.

 

As he was checking if his plan could work, he slowly stepped backwards on the stage, trying to see the ceiling without success, that's when the shadow brought his eyes back in front of him. An ominous shape walking straight for him. He did not think twice before his legs started sprinting to the other side of the backstages.

 

"Oh come on, Brucie, aren't you supposed to catch me?"

 

He was nowhere near strong enough to take him out if they were to face, he could almost feel his breath against his neck as he was running as fast as he could, going back to his previous steps.

 

When he felt a rope against his wrist, he braced for anything coming for him and felt suddenly lifted in the air, right above the stage. His free hand grabbed the rope, trying to untie it without any success, making him realise that falling from that height was unwise. He was trapped.

 

"What have they been training you for? This was way too easy."

 

The spotlight came back on, showing Jerome staring at him from below, clearly enjoying the view.

 

"And I thought I was in for a challenge! I even baited you with a reward! What do you have to say to your booing audience, fake Hero?"

 

"The show's not over."

 

In a swift move, Bruce balanced himself, Jerome gasping with an impressed look. He was curious to see how the boy was planning to escape this.

 

Except he wasn't trying to.

 

In one kick, he let the sandbags on the timber he was trapped to fall fast to the ground, their rope sliding with them, linking directly to Jerome ankle being trapped in a tight knot before pulling him upside down next to him.

 

The redhead took some time to realise what just happened. He had just been turned into a theatre prop, played at his own game, in his own settings, and when he noticed Bruce childish proud smile, he burst out laughing.

 

Not a show-off laugh, not his manic, crazy laugh, a genuine one. Something he's been craving to have for so long but everyone was so boring, so serious. And to think that of all of Gotham, Bruce Wayne was the one giving him this laugh, right now. The world was really a mad one.

 

"So... About that rewa-"

 

Bruce stopped as soon as he saw part of the timber dusting in front of them, raising his eyes to notice that the old wood was getting tired of their weight. Without hesitation, he balanced himself to Jerome's rope, trying to untie it. Thankfully, the man couldn't die twice.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"The timber is going to break!"

 

Jerome raised an eyebrow and tried to look passed the busy hand trying to untie him. The wood started creaking dangerously and he could see the whole platform ready to collapse. He kicked Bruce's hand out of his foot and asked again.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"You don't have to die here! Let me untie you!"

 

The mad laugh was back in Bruce’s ears and he couldn't believe how his rival couldn't care less about death, after all, he did experienced it already. This time there was no criminal doctor ready to give him a third chance.

 

"If you fall, I fall, Brucie!"

 

The confused look he gave him made him lose it even more. Of course he couldn't understand how he felt now. He found him. He found someone that made this boring, serious world, finally worth living in. If he had to lose it because he sacrifices himself for him, what was even the point. And when the wood finally broke, his laugh was buried in a strangely soft and perfumed darkness.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

When he left Oswald to rest last night, Edward didn't think it would go that far. As soon as he left the room, Zsasz was next to him.

 

"We have a problem."

 

Before he could continue, he grabbed him and brought him away from the door, not imagining what Oswald would do if he heard any of this conversation right now. He made sure they were far enough.

 

"Go on."

 

"Fish must've known that she succeeded in taking out the Boss, we're getting calls from everywhere asking for help."

 

Of course... The snake had to hit the top to get rid of the low. That was a brilliant idea and Edward would admire it if he didn't want to strangle her with all his might. But he succeeded to hide that away from the man in front of him.

 

"I'm guessing she's attacking only the place with little resistance?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Good. Call them. Tell them to abandon the place, they must regroup to the bigger headquarters we still have, if they all die fighting now, we won't be able to save everyone when she'll start to attack the main places."

 

"Got it."

 

"Make a map ready in the living room, we need to be ready."

 

"Are you our Boss, now, Eddie?"

 

He turned around before entering his room, noticing the smile in the corner of his friend's mouth, he was really enjoying the night it seemed.

 

"I refuse to leave Oswald. He will not wake to see his empire crumbled."

 

He left for his room, getting out the suit his friend got him not a long time ago. He didn't wear it before, not finding the proper moment. Not that spending the next hours protecting a crime lord's empire was the appropriate moment but clearly not the time to wear a comfy sweater.

 

When he came back, he dismissed Barbara's impressed whistle and started to ask everyone to gather. If they had to fight this without Oswald, they'll have to win it.

 

The good news was that Tabitha was used to this, and was perfectly in her element. They could plan without problem, Butch getting almost meaner commenting over how Edward didn't have any rights to be ordering them around. The tension was almost palpable. Butch deciding in mid-way that he would go wherever he wanted, refusing to get ordered around by someone else; despite Tabitha trying to bring him to reason. A shame, really, because he was clearly going to lose men and that annoyed Edward unbelievably. In times like this, they needed to keep as much people as they could. Thankfully, the others were on his side and soon enough they were off to the city, armed and deadly.

 

He did not get out of the manor, coordinating every phone call he received, hearing the men he lost while they were arguing against him, demanding Oswald to come on the phone. He rather lose them than their leader who needed the rest he was having.

 

He will not allowed anyone to take his Penguin away.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

When Oswald woke up this evening, he was greeted by a powerful pain to his side. He slowly got up to sit on his bed, looking around painfully. He could barely see, his eyes still half-asleep even after more than 11 hours of sleep. Slowly, cruel memories of the day before came back to him, sending shivers to his back. That monstrous beast that almost broke him so, oh so easily. How was he supposed to fight Fish when her allies were this powerful? He thought that he could endure it, block every feelings, every thoughts, focusing solely on her, and he would be able to just take her out. But never would he have thought to face such power.. If this was one creature, what about the others? How long have she been training them? And what was this about "We do what she says" bit? Were they forced? Were they finding a guiding light in her?

 

He knew she had powers, one to control others, but what if she also had the double of the strength this monster had? She could just walk in and destroy everything in here, the manor, the people... And walk out without a sweat and a smile on her face.. She could-

 

"My friend! I am so glad to see you awake!"

 

He was torn out of his thoughts by the delighted voice of Edward rushing to his side. And what a sight that was.

 

He was wearing the suit he had tailored for him, a black suit with dark green buttons, with a matching necktie, a golden pin against it. Oswald surprised himself to find him ungodly beautiful in such an attire. Lost in his thoughts, he did not even heard the questions that were asked to him.

 

"Are you alright?"

 

He looked back at his eyes, drowning in them almost. He remembered how intimate they were when he healed him, again, and the hands on his shoulders felt so reassuring. He put his hands on the wrists, making sure not to mess the sleeves of the shirt coming out of the dark vest.

 

"I'm... What's going on?"

 

Edward seemed annoyed not to get an answer to his question but knew better to point it out to Oswald.

 

"You were... out for some time, Fish seemed to knew you were so she started to strike left and right. I did my best to... Push her back."

 

Oswald eyes got bigger, fear flying through them.

 

"Why didn't you wake me?!"

 

The voice crack was easy to spot, he was still so tired, still not strong enough to strike back. Edward tried, in vain, to hide his worry look.

 

"My friend, please, let me speak."

 

He could see his breath getting faster, this wasn't good, he needed to calm down.

 

"We took care of it. She's not moving anymore. We stopped her."

 

He did love to elaborate, but right now, the best was to get straight to the point. He could see tears menacing at the corner of Oswald's eyes.

 

"But for how long? How long before they all turn against us?!"

 

This left a confused look out of Edward.

 

"What ever do you mean, dear?"

 

"Haven’t you noticed?"

 

The hands on his wrist tightened.

 

"They all know her, they worked for her, they admire her. The best tactics was to keep them away as long as possible so that they wouldn't turn against me... Now it's too late... They will all... She's walking to them, one by one and...."

 

He started shaking, the tears falling down. What Edward was exactly trying to avoid had happened in the end. A broken king thinking his kingdom had fallen to the enemy, worse even, turned against him and ready to behead him. But he won't have that. He refused.

 

"Oswald, please look at me."

 

The man felt the warm hands sliding on his cheeks, rising his face up, and inside, he was really ashamed to be seen like this.

 

"Do you know what was the hardest part of this night? Of this fight?"

 

Oswald could think of many things, but what could be number one, that was hard to pick.

 

"They wouldn't listen to me. They were asking for you."

 

He looked back into the dark eyes of his friend.

 

"I am invisible, and win the battlefield. I kill with words and yet I do not wield swords. Who Am I?"

 

His face was close to his, close enough he could feel his breath caress his lips as he whispered, voice trembling with tears.

 

"A Leader."

 

Nygma's smile was showing up again, that wide, glad smile, and his heart felt filled with a strength he thought long gone. The hands left the wrist slowly to slide on the smooth face too close to his. He brought it against his, their lips crushing in an awkward kiss. They stayed still for a moment, Edward's hands up in the air as he was surprised by the sudden kiss before enjoying it and melting into it, surprising Oswald who expected rejection. He felt the strong arms hold his still weak body and they fell back in the bed, kissing each other’s lips like they've been waiting for this in forever. Maybe they did.

 

Oswald whimpered as he felt Nygma's tongue sliding on his lips, opening them and shivering as their kiss got deeper. His hand grabbed the suit he was so bothered not to mess up earlier, breathing deeply as their legs entwined together. He felt protected, secured, with the slim chest against his, trying to answer the kiss as much as he could, feeling shivers scratching his spine, quickly losing his breath.

 

The lips left his as soon as he whined for air, taking back his breath as he felt sweet pressure against his neck, offering it as soon as he felt them, a hand going into the thin brown hair, playing with them, enjoying the whimpers he got out of it. It was calm, gentle, innocent even, as lips joined his again, soothing.

 

When they separated and looked at each other, they couldn't stop a small laugh, almost childish. They cuddled for a time, Edward assuring him they had time for that. He could feel his hand in his hair, healing him. After some time, he finally got up, asking Edward to ready his suit as he left for the bathroom.

 

He came back with black pants and white shirt. Edward styled his hair as he was putting his vest and coat on, grabbing his father's umbrella. He then looked back at his friend.

 

"Let's go break this bitch."

 

Edward happily offered him his arms and they both left.

Gotham should hide tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the final one!  
> I'm planning to do a side-story about Zsasz (because really, man of my life)  
> I'm also planning another Nygmobblepot and Bruce/Jerome fic.. more at eleven


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wakes up to something he didn't really expected after some time completely unconscious. Oswald receives an invitation to one of his own club and Edward refuses to let him go alone this time. The war with the monsters is terrifying but not enough to stop him from protecting what he most cherishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! Last chapter!
> 
> Again, big thanks to my pal cobblestyles (AO3) who stayed until the end, despite how ooc it became!
> 
> Thank you for your lovely comments, I hope you enjoy this, and more in the notes below!

# First Dance

### Chapter 6

A pressure against his chest brought him back from unconsciousness, making him cough out the dust stuck in his lungs. Bruce really thought he would at least open his eyes in an hospital room, if opening his eyes at all after such a fall. He tried to move his arms, wanting to wipe out his eyes but not even strong enough to do that just yet. He could feel his chest moving slowly in rhythm with his breathing, sometimes coughing. If not for the previous sandbags, they would've met with the wooden floor and probably not survive the landing. Their body slowly slid to the ground.

 

After some time, he finally was able to move his neck without it being too painful, bring his head near his shoulder, lifting it slowly and wiping his eye with it, groaning as he did the same with the other. He opened them to find out the pressure against his chest was nothing else than Jerome just staring at him with his eternal smile. He coughed again.

 

"I hope that, with the pain you're giving me, I am at least a bit comfortable."

 

"Not really, too many bones.... That could be arranged."

 

Bruce groaned.

 

"I think I broke enough of them for tonight."

 

Slowly, he was realising what just happened, finally coming back to his senses, staring down to the boy against his chest, clearly enjoying the new pillow.

 

"You stopped me from saving you!! Are you-"

 

"Crazy? Out of my mind? Bonkers?"

 

Bruce wished that smile couldn't get any wilder as he was looking at him, his head upside down settled on his chest; he got enough strength to slap him. Not as hard as he wished, sadly, that was supposed to be a punch.

 

"We could've both died! If not for the sandbags we would b-"

 

"So what?"

 

"So what??? I can't die right now!"

 

"Says the boy... Who was ready to sacrifice himself... To let ME live..."

 

As he said that, Jerome turned around to fully face him, almost sat on him now, which was a relief of some sort, not having this awful pressure against him. Bruce wanted to answer but couldn't even think of what to say. Some days ago, he was threatening to throw him down a well, and here he was, saving him in a moment of life and death. Thinking about it right now, it's totally unbelievable, and yet, on the moment, it just seemed logical to him.

 

"I... don't want you to die."

 

If he didn't know the boy enough, he would think his face soften at that moment.

 

"I don't want anyone to die, I just want people to be judged. I want them to see the errors of their ways..."

 

And just like that, it was gone. Jerome rolled his eyes and leaned on him, holding his own face on his hand, elbows near Bruce's head, making his dangerously close.

 

"Well, try not to die while doing so then. You've become my most precious interest, Brucie Boy."

 

Bruce gave him a confused look. This was becoming a bad habit.

 

"I meant what I said. If you fall, I fall. If you die, I don't see the point of staying. I want to be there forever to annoy you. If you're not here anymore... The world would be so boring again."

 

This was looking more and more like a confession, and Jerome knew it. Seeing Bruce's embarrassment growing on his face was as delicious as trying to track him down and kill him. When he avoided his eyes he couldn't stop his laugh.

 

"To think I'm making you so uncomfortable. I could just do whatever I want to you, right now."

 

"But that's not how you play your game, is it?"

 

Jerome was taken aback by this, backing away with an impressed look, crossing his arms.

 

"You already know me so well."

 

He cocked his head to the side, leaning again, a hand sliding on Bruce's cheek, knowing it'll embarrass him enough to stop him from pushing him away, his free hand's fingers sliding at the collar of his turtleneck, pulling it down slowly to observe the scar on his neck, still red after their last encounter. He let his thumb slide on it slowly, feeding himself with the obvious shiver making Bruce's body shake underneath his. He did it again, adding a bit more pressure, enjoying seeing the shaky breath coming out of his mouth; he leaned in with a smile. Almost whispering.

 

"Don't heal it too fast, you might forget about me.."

 

Before getting an answer, he pressed his lips at the corner of his, almost not touching them. Bruce had a terrible mix of feelings attacking him, the most frightening being the fact that he seemed to, deeply, enjoy it a bit. He stayed long enough like this, taking the time to enjoy it, to engrave it in his memory, before lifting himself up, leaving him. Without another word he just left the room, the door closing in a loud clank behind him.

 

It took some time to Bruce before he could get back on his feet, his mind still out in those last moments. He stood up in the middle of the opera until he heard steps in the hallways. As quick as he could, he grabbed his shoes and ran in the street, not even surprised to not find the bodies there anymore. He ran to his bike and hurried. As he was leaving, he heard people yelling behind him.

 

He might have gone above the speed limit to get home, that night.

 

As soon as he parked his bike, he could hear the door open and saw Alfred coming out, ready to give him an earful it seemed.

 

"Three in the morning, Master Bruce! I'm guessing that's a bloody long talk you had with your friend."

 

".................. I'm home before breakfast...?"

 

Alfred frowned at that, but Bruce's smile was something he had a hard time to resist. In these moments, he would often remind him of his dad. The boy hoped he could just get away with it, trying to get to the door as he was stopped right away, a hand pulling on his, revealing the rope mark on his wrist.

 

An awkward silence fell between the both of them.

 

"I will... Keep my questions for tomorrow morning."

 

Slowly realising what Alfred was implying, Bruce could feel his cheeks getting redder by the second, he just quickly nodded and ran to his room as fast as he could. Slammed the door behind him and leaned there for a time, bringing the marked wrist in front of him. This was going to stay for some time it seems. Minutes went by and he decided to move, got rid of his dusty clothes and went to make sure he didn't have any injuries he missed. None. They got really lucky.

 

After a shower, he put on sleepwear and walked by his mirror, realising a note was against it, near a perfume bottle he had never seen before. He opened it, knowing it wouldn't be trapped.

 

Your perfume isn't on sale anymore,

I couldn't steal it anywhere but here.

Hope you like the replacement.

J.

 

He folded the note, taking the perfume, sprayed some on his marked wrist before smelling it. Instantly, a smile, and a laugh, flashed in his mind. He won't be wearing that often.

 

He walked to his window, putting the note with the others, looking outside.

 

Somewhere in Gotham, smiling lips were whispering.

 

"You play hard to get but don't worry....."

 

"... I'll get you."

 

Bruce closed the curtains and slowly walked to his bed. As he closed his eyes, he could still feel a sweet pressure on his neck and lips. Sleeping on the side, he held his wrist close to his face, refusing to kiss it, lulled by the sweet scent.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Fish's comeback was easily pushed away when Oswald Cobblepot came back to his men, stronger and fiercer than ever. At least he knew he was when he saw more than 2 of them shiver at his speech. He will not let that witch win the fight, not until they face each other for another, and this time final, stand. Galavan was easy to get rid off, and he wasn't going to complain about doing it twice. There was something satisfying to leave nothing behind.

 

Every time the phone rang, he would hear a new story about new monsters, all of them scarier than the others. He had yet to see his friend Godzilla again. He learned later that his name was Killer Croc, and surprisingly enough, he almost didn't want to kill him. Indeed, he told him something very valuable and it turned out to be surprisingly helpful. They weren't doing this because they liked and followed Fish, they had to do what she says. See, "had to", in this sentence, stayed with Oswald. As engraved stone, it marked his mind, as he was planning their counter-attack. He had to be careful, they were all easy to targets in front of unknown beasts, but he didn't have a bunch of mindless animals, he had smart, if not the smartest, criminals ready to fight at his side.

 

Edward's replacement worked perfectly, as he protected the most important lairs, sacrificing the ones who wouldn't listen. Even if their loss was just a gust against Oswald's shoulders, he could see his friend was taking this as a failure; he definitively was the emotional one in this. At first, Oswald would make a rather offensive attack, willing to kill half of his men but doing as much damages to Fish. Edward's hand stopped him, suggesting a better option, changing his slightly, saving more men, and reducing even more of Fish's. But it was riskier. Edward was counting on the beasts minds, hoping they would listen to reason, seek help even. And the man was right, it was weird that all of them were following her, without questioning. Croc's sentences was just another proof of it all.

 

As soon as they started moving, they won back their strength. Gaining new, mostly scared allies, others retreating to their Queen. No one would've thought they would be brave enough to face her after a failed mission. Bravery comes alongside with stupidity, Edward would say. He made sure to never leave Oswald's side, not that he would be any help on the battlefield anyway. Here, he could advises, and sometimes, when a creature was rebelling, he would bring them back, knowing the ways of their minds as he knows any other. It always amazed him, to see this single man, winning battles with his words rather than with his fists. And he would surprise himself wishing he was under the spells of his mouth.

 

As for the rest of his team, Tabitha and Barbara were remarkably good out there. Barbara was known for her persuasive charms but was as deadlier as a sharp blade, more than once, they would think of her as a bait and she would prove them wrong. The ones that were too hard to beat were for Tabitha's skills. She had her own ways around people's minds, but it could work for a time. And for those who were just too stupid, or too scared, to let them do as they pleased, they would become a deadly weapon willed both by experience and madness. A cruel duo, indeed.

 

Butch accepted to go back to his senses and obeyed him. As much as it pained him to do so, he lost a good bunch of his men not following Nygma's orders. Once in a while, the petty man would ask a simple "may I?" before giving advice, reminding him of his own mistake. As bitter as he was, he worked hard and well. In a matter of time, most of their locations were theirs again, sadly, Butch would leave only corpses behind.

 

Zsasz was... Zsasz. Since Edward started telling his plan, he left, never to be seen again it seems. Not that it was unusual. No phone calls, no messages. They would just sometimes stumble in one place that already had bodies lying around. But sometimes, they would notice the wounds weren't only his.

 

Everything went according to plan and they were back on equal ground with Fish.

 

So when they received an invitation coming from one of their clubs, that wasn't even taken by her yet, they were a bit confused. Even more by the fact that Zsasz just delivered it.

 

"Who gave you this?"

 

"It was on the door."

 

"And you didn't get in??"

 

"Why would I? If she is in there, she's for you."

 

But this wasn't her doing. If she wanted to play, she would've just directly come to him and confront him, and that was just too dangerous right now. She lost a lot and needed to recover before striking again, knowing that they can fight with something else than guns from now on.

 

The invitation was just one from the club, nothing else written that could give them a clue, but refusing to leave that as a mystery, Oswald stood up and put his coat on.

 

"I will come too."

 

Everyone looked at Edward quite surprised, even Butch. But last time Oswald left for a club, he came back bloodied and bruised, and if anyone had to make him that way again, that would be him and him alone. He wasn't ready to fight in any case but he refused to stay here after what happened. His friend smiled and just nodded, probably feeling the same way. They walked to the car and Victor started driving right away, hurrying to the club. Edward was nervous. He's been on crime scenes before, but the fight was always over when he saw it. He never fought against anyone, his strength wasn't his body, this was clear enough during his game with Gordon. But when a gloved hand pressed his tightly, he felt like he could beat the world down if he had to.

 

They arrived in front of the club once night already fell, only the music inside it resonating, confined by the walls. Oswald frowned but Victor was the first to talk.

"That's awfully quiet."

 

Edward looked at him, a bit confused.

 

"That doesn't sound quiet to me."

 

"You've never been at a club, Eddie."

 

They both raised their eyebrows at the murderer as soon as the nickname showed up. Oblivious, he continued.

 

"We can't even hear people's cheer-"

 

"That's not- you know what, forget it, let's go."

 

Oswald went straight for the door and Edward followed closely, not hiding even a bit the nervousness creeping on him. Victor would laugh at it, but as soon as the smell hit his nostril, his hands went for his guns. He was glad he called some of his girls, they've been waiting for him inside apparently. Corpses were covering the floor, both sides damaged, it seemed. But no signs of Fish's men. As they walked in the main room, the untouched stage welcoming them, Victor's girls leaning on it, looking at someone dancing gracefully around the pole.

 

"That's it, boy! Now let yourself go and let the curtains suspend your body!"

 

And just as the girl said so, the body was flying around, arms trapped in white silky curtains lifting his body. Stopping as soon as it spotted them.

 

"What is going on here?"

 

Oswald was fuming. How could they have fun in such a place, at such times, when an important lair had been clearly in danger. His voice was on the verge of cracking but he was stopped by a pat on his shoulder, given by his marksman, walking to his girls.

 

"Boss. I thought I made that clear.."

 

His voice turned cold as ice, chilling Edward on the spot.

 

"No one but me, can scold my girls."

 

They all looked at Oswald with disdain, before leaving the stage and walk away, waiting for their boss in the background, trying to find drinks. The voice from above, suddenly resonated.

 

"Finally!! The most beloved criminal of Gotham shows before me."

 

As the body got down, still flying in mid-air, Oswald recognized the smile, but it's Edward who spoke first.

 

"Last time I checked, you were dead, Mister Valeska."

 

"Everyone is telling me that! It's starting to get really annoying, you know?"

 

He balanced himself to get back on the pole, letting go of the silk on his arms to let his body glide around it, that's when they noticed he wore only briefs. Edward averted his eyes.

 

"What are you doing here? What do you want?"

 

Oswald was way too annoyed by all this to even bother getting embarrassed. His hand was firmly gripping his umbrella, he had no time for jokes. If he didn't know what happened here right away, he wouldn't hesitate to kill the boy. It's not as if he was unfamiliar with it anyway.

 

"Well you see, it's a funny story really! Last time I went out, I got trapped by a very VERY silly bit of timber... I realised I needed a bit more.."

 

Before continuing, he slid down 20 inches, putting himself upside down, still gliding around, sometimes moving his legs.

 

"... Flexibility."

 

Oswald was growing impatient, and showing it.

 

"So I decided to come and train here, after all, it had the reputation to be the best of the best. Sadly, when I arrived, your men were dead, and Ms.Mooney's were... how to say this... Extremely cruel to your girls and boys."

 

He noticed one of them on the ground, covered in blood. Edward's came to a conclusion rather quickly.

 

"She was forced to dance until she bled to death..."

 

Jerome grimaced, as if it would actually pain him for some reason.

 

"I have to admit, I lost my cool there. I did all this walk and I was greeted like this? This is not the way to welcome a growing star!"

 

He laughed and the hit of the umbrella against the stage shut him rather quickly. He whispered in greeted teeth.

 

"I see, not a fan of humour, like more than half of the city, I get it..."

 

In a jump, he stood before them, sitting on the edge of the stage, long legs dangling.

 

"So, as I said, I lost my cool. Started getting rid of the insects invading the place. Turns out somebody had the same idea!"

 

He pointed at some of the bodies, sliced precisely, and Zsasz took a step forward, cutting Oswald before he could even say anything.

 

"What did they look like?!"

 

"Hm? My unexpected acolyte? Red long hair? Kinky outfit too..."

 

"Is he still here?!"

 

"Well... I huh.. Who are you aga-"

 

"ANSWER, CLOWN."

 

The yell froze most of them, except for Oswald, of course, used to the man's temper. Jerome's laugh was dark.

 

"I like you, big man. He's probably still in the back, he w-"

 

Before he could finish this, the man was storming off to the doors, leaving them with only the music of the club to break their silence. Jerome came back to them.

 

"Aaaanyway. I don't want to work for you. You don't want me, neither. But I don't like Fish. I liked my ‘crazy’ friends and she plays with them. So what about a deal with the devil, Mr Penguin?"

 

Edward scoffed but realised Oswald was considering it. How could he? This boy was clearly insane, probably going to disappear out of nowhere too, and they didn't need two Zsasz.

 

"Talk."

 

Judging by his voice, it became clearer. Jerome was strong. Jerome had just decided to fight Fish's men all alone, without even knowing who they were before hand. Until now, not even one of Oswald's men had gathered enough strength to even think of facing these people alone. As he looked around, no monsters were killed, but the claw marks on the wall proved they probably were their to get rid of Oswald's bouncers and security.

 

"Give me this club. No one will find me. I get to train and stay in the shadows, you get someone who knows how to think before killing. Isn't that what you really need in this war of yours?"

 

And he was right, that was exactly what they needed. Edward jumped when he heard gunshots in the backstages and doors slamming. Looked like Zsasz found his guy. Since their first encounter, the man was running, club after club, street after street to get him. Oswald didn't stop him, a dangerous person against them wouldn't be good in this ongoing war. This guy didn't seem to fight for anyone so he was no good for them anyway.

 

He turned his look back to Jerome's.

 

"Will you obey?"

 

"Well.. See... Last time I obeyed someone, I got my throat slit! But trust me..."

 

As he jumped to the ground and started walking to them, Edward took a step, ready to act as a shield if he had to. That didn't stop him from shaking, this was not his element. Jerome huffed but continued once stopped.

 

"I am good at what I do. I just don't do it for free."

 

And the ownership of the club was the price. But it was still his gang's. He considered the offer for a time, but there was no way around it, it was a good offer and it would help them greatly.. The only problem in this was the unpredictable factor that was Jerome. Strangely, he wanted to believe the boy didn't learned about betrayal enough yet to actually use it on him. He already chose not to follow Fish, that wasn't just to leave him for her on a whim.

 

They agreed and Oswald would send people in the morning to get the club clean and safe, letting Jerome with one of his most trusted man to deal with the club's doing. Jerome might have asked for ownership, he was not going to deal with the club's activity, even if he wanted, he had no idea how it worked. But they both got what they wanted, a hideout, an ally. After waiting for a bit, they decided to drive home by themselves; Victor wasn't coming back for a while probably.

 

The drive back was tense, Edward holding the wheel tightly. He didn't really agree on this decision Oswald made. Jerome was a factor way too dangerous, unknown; something never to mix with concrete plans. But with time, he learned to never doubt his friend's words. He got out of his thoughts when a gloved hand turned the radio on, the music already calming him, humming along. And what a joy it was when Oswald joined him, a hand on his.

 

Memories came flashing back, the two of them in his apartment where he took care of him as best he could, the number of times he craved to hug him and had to refrain from it, his internal voice yelling at him. He hated how close to the truth it was. He could've have just taken Oswald for him at that time, he was scared, hurt, he could've gotten his kingdom so easily, manipulate him. And yet he didn't, he resisted, and for what? An unsure friendship? That's what made him wonder if he didn't fell for him the minute he saw him. He sighed and stopped in front of the manor, the morning light was shyly showing up, everyone already hurried up to bed.

 

They got out of the car and Edward joined Oswald as close he could, his friend walked on the first steps of the entrance stairs, turning around. Right then, gently, a hand caressed his cheeks and lips grazed his. With a smile, the silent message was delivered, he took his hand and they walked in. Going straight for Oswald's bedroom, as soon as they stepped in, coats were on the couch and arms around necks, lips crushing as the first time they did so. Edward could feel him shiver against his body and he loved every bit of it, a hand running to his nape, sliding into the raven hair to playfully dance in them. They loved this moment they shared occasionally, a time of peace in the middle of this crazy war. When Oswald whimpered, asking for air, Edward gave it to him, guiding the both of them to the bed as they got rid of their shoes and socks. His body was above his friend's, feeling his chest pressing with each breath, his smile growing.

 

And they kissed again, shivering against each other's whispers, name dying between their lips. Oswald took his breath back, his injured leg slowly caressing his.

 

"I like our moments like this..."

 

A smile was against pressing against closed lips, a huff caressing his skin.

 

"I like them too."

 

Oswald shifted a bit, and Edward shivered when he heard his moan drown in a whisper.

 

"Edward... I really like our moments like this..."

 

And he didn't need to look down to guess the bulge against his legs, slowly pressing against it. He would lie if he said he didn't think about this more than once, his hand slid on his lover's skin, slowly gliding on his neck to untie his collar.

 

"You know... Last time I did this... I choked my girlfriend to death..."

 

As he said so, he pressed his legs between his, feeding on his gasp, listening intently as he whispered.

 

"I might like it..."

 

There was no way around it, they were made for each other. Teeth captured lips and played with them, hands getting rid of shirts and pants, before slowly trapping hips in a strong grip, making them dance against him. He reveled in his partner's whimpers and moans, glad to discover he was voicing his pleasure. Impatient to see if he was a screamer too. He kissed him again, this time not stopping when he felt him asking for air, laughing in his throat when he felt fists hitting his chest, not even strong enough to move him, he tortured him so until he wasn't able to continue either.

 

He straighten up, not stopping his slow torture against his bulge, looking as he left a messy breath out of his lover, and as if not enough, he let his hand go and massage his length through his briefs, making him gasp even more. He noticed the hands grabbing the bed's sheets and he'd be lying if he didn't enjoy it, watching his little bird struggling to fly. As he continued his torture, he smiled as he saw him struggling to talk.

 

"Is... hnn... Is this really.. Your first time?"

 

He took the compliment quite at heart.

 

"Let's say I read about it. I wouldn't want you to be unsatisfied."

 

The messy laugh made his heart skip, of course, he only had his one time with Mrs Kringle, but he wasn't going to disappoint Oswald. Victor might have laughed when he saw him read about it, it was worth it. They were going to enjoy this. And as he thought so, he slid the briefs on Oswald's legs, being mindful of his injured one, covering it with short kisses, his heart warming up as he heard his laugh again. Before taking care of his own briefs, he stopped.

 

"Do.... hum... Do you have lube?"

 

The confused look Oswald gave him was enough of an answer.

 

"Don't move. I'm going to get some in my room."

 

"Do we really ne-"

 

"Trust me. We need lube."

 

As he said this, he ran to the door and made sure to close it behind him, leaving a horny, but patient, Oswald on the bed, taking back his breath.

 

As soon as he leaved the room, he went for his door and stopped in his track, eyes meeting with two very confused ones. Another pair joined in, proud it seems. It took him time to realise Victor and a.. friend of his? The both of them covered in blood and bruised, were staring at a very... very uncovered Nygma. He took his most frightening look, seeing the guy with the long red hair take a step back, wincing as he did so, and without a word, he left for his room, ignoring Victor's obviously proud look.

 

When the door closed behind him, he took back his breath, trying to forget what just happened before going back to his main task, running for his night stand, taking lube and condoms out of it before running back to the room. Oswald was sitting on the bed, clearly uncomfortable. He threw the condoms and lube on the bed and jumped at his lips, claiming them again. Leaning on him to lay them down again, his finger slowly caressing his length, feeling him begging for more. He tortured him a bit longer before going for his chest, covering it with bites and kisses, his fingers slowly closing and moving on it, pumping slightly. The shaky breath he got was delightful.

 

He straighten up and opened the lube with his free hand and teeth, spreading some on his fingers and between Oswald's legs, the sight of his whole body shaking in a long moan pleasing him even more. He leaned down on him, his hand slowly accelerating and his body shivering as the whimpers got faster with each moves, but before sending him too far, he stopped and lifted his legs slowly.

 

"Forgive me for this."

 

As he slid a finger in him, he scolded himself for liking the pained sound his boyfriend made, enjoying the nails digging in his shoulders. It took time, but once he got used to it, he started moving in him, refusing to stop until he said him so. And he never did, truly trusting every single one of his moves. After getting used to the second finger, Edward had no problem finding the spot that had Oswald begging for more. Yes, definitely a screamer.

 

He got drunk on this voice yelling and begging for more, reveled every time his name would be entwined with moans, and when he couldn't take it anymore, he slid on a condom and slowly went in him, watching as his face went from uncomfortable pain to pleasure, slowly moving first and getting faster as he found his spot again. He grabbed his hips, not ever stopping his moves as Oswald was yelling his name.

 

And when his voice cracked in his screams, they both came, arms tightening around each others.

 

They both had to take their breath again, before looking at each others and burst out laughing. Never would've Edward thought he would find this warm feeling again, and yet here he was, kissing Oswald again. They cleaned up but they might as well had done nothing as they didn't sleep until the night fell, spending the day between bites, hips and moans.

 

When Oswald opened his eyes, it was 11pm, and he could hear laughter in the living room. They were all awake but he didn't wish to join them. He looked at the sleeping face next to his, snuggling against his lover's chest, he kissed his lips. And eyes opened.

 

"Good Evening, my Dear."

 

Edward laughed at the nickname, he kissed him back and let his fingers draw on his naked back. Nothing could ever get to him anymore, he felt invincible.

 

"We should join with the others, but I have the feeling you want to stay here with me."

 

Edward raised his eyebrows.

 

"Look at you predicting my every move, I can't hide you anything it seems."

His laugh was so pure to Edward, innocent for just this moment between them. He hugged him more tightly, snuggling his nose in the raven hair. A deep breath escaping him. They didn't need to say anything else. Oswald brief kiss against his chest, at the placement of his heart, was his own way to confess his love, and he answered with a tighter hug, and a kiss on his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are!  
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Now, I know some people would be disappointed not to know what happened next, and I might write more. But also, there might be some appearances and hints in the side fic that I'll start very soon. Pretty sure you can guess who's it going to be about.  
> (Hint: it's Zsasz. I love him. I'm sorry.)
> 
> In any case, thank you so much for the kudos and comments, you're the best!


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